Work Text:
G'rhen's childish giggle drew her attention before the first few fat drops of rain collided with the ground, and W'ynter spared an indulgent smile for her son as she weighed the pros and cons of allowing the toddler to gambol about in the burgeoning downpour versus the dilemma of cleaning up a soon-to-be-soaked kitten. Deciding on a seemingly appropriate middle ground as she rummaged in the small pack of supplies at her feet. “Rhen, if you are going to play in the rain then at least put your boots on first.”
Dark furred ears twitching in delight, the child chirped an affirmative before plopping down - thankfully not in a mud puddle at least - to pull on the rubber boots she handed him before he resumed his cheerful frolicking amidst the raindrops. Giving a soft shake of her head, W'ynter settled back down onto the stone bench to watch. Back in Sharlayan in the pursuit of yet another forgotten tome, her husband had been in the archives for the majority of the afternoon. But it had only taken their two year old the better part of twenty minutes to decide that he wanted to play rather than to look at the ‘fascinating history’ that his father kept pointing out to him.
G'raha's affronted look had almost made her burst out laughing before she shook her head and reminded him gently that their son was only two and that right now the prospect of digging in the dirt or chasing butterflies was a much more inviting prospect than poring over musty tomes. A fact that her husband seemed to grudgingly accept with a sigh as she gathered up the child and took him outside.
“Give it a few winters, Raha… And I wager he will be right there beside you.” She mused softly as she watched the little boy cavorting in the rain. Not at all surprised when his attention was grabbed by an earthworm drawn from the soil by the increasingly heavy precipitation. Just like his father, that one, even playtime was an excuse to study something. And… yes, he was collecting the earthworm into a muddy little hand and bringing it over to her for her inspection.
The slayer of eikons gave this oh-so-important duty her utmost attention, only to glance up with a curious flick of one ear as her sodden spawn gave a delighted cry of ‘Papa!’ And sure enough, there he was. Walking towards them as though completely unaware of the rain that soaked his titian hair, carnelian eyes fixed on a rapidly dampening sheet of parchment clutched in his fingers.
Curious - and a little bit concerned - when his attention did not immediately shift to the child, W'ynter handed the earthworm back to G'rhen as she stood up to greet her distracted scholar. “Raha, is something wrong?”
Reaching up to brush dripping crimson fringe from his eyes, he seemed to finally snap out of his daze. Giving her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as he tried to feign nonchalance. “Oh, nothing terrible. Just…” He sighed and waggled the damp piece of parchment at her. “It's… from home. From… my mother. She's asking me to come to Corvos.”
Understanding dawned on her face as she took the letter from his fingers and skimmed over the contents briefly. “She wants you to aid them in the recovery of Allagan artifacts?”
He nodded as he took back the parchment and folded it up before tucking it carefully into a pocket. “It would seem so. Likely many of them are relics from my childhood. Items that were buried and hidden away during the Garlean invasion of Corvos.”
Like me. She finished silently, already able to guess the path that his thoughts were traveling. Reaching up to glide soft fingertips along his cheek and rest her palm against his skin. “I'm sure they would understand if your duties here leave you unable to do as they wish…”
G'raha shook his head as he reached up to cover her hand with his own larger palm. “No… I can't do that. I… it's time. I've avoided it for long enough. Besides…” Red eyes flickered to where G'rhen had begun splashing around in the puddles forming where rain poured from the edge of the stone canopy. “I owe it to G'rhen. It isn't only my heritage… it's his too.”
There was no need to voice her pride in him for the courage she knew that decision had needed. It was evident in the softness of her smile as she stroked her thumb against his cheek with a nod. “We can head to Thavnair whenever you're ready, Raha. I'm sure it will be a simple matter to find passage across the Corvos Narrow from there.”
He seemed grateful and willing to allow her to take charge of the more technical aspects of planning their trip, and it took less time than she would have expected to get both of her waterlogged boys dried and changed and packed before they were making their way from the central aetheryte plaza in Radz-at-Han to the docks. Closing her eyes against the heat, W'ynter marveled for a moment at how short of a time it had taken her to become accustomed to the chill of Ishgard; Thavnair had always been hot, but it seemed somehow even more stifling when compared to the snowy cold of Coerthas. But at least she’d had the foresight to dress appropriately, and the sleeveless tunic and light flowing trousers allowed enough of a breeze to reach her skin that she didn’t feel in need of a bath by the time they’d walked to the docks. G’rhen was equal parts awestruck and shy in the way that children his age often were, and she watched his mismatched eyes dart around the city as small fingers retained their death grip on her hand and he kept close to her leg. And while she hated to see her son intimidated by the world around them, the motherly part of her whispered that in a summer or two he would be running off without a second thought for her and she should selfishly hoard these moments of being essential in such a way.
It seemed to help her husband to wax technical as they walked, and so she eventually scooped G’rhen up into her arms and listened as he rambled on about the length of time they’d likely be on the ship for, what they could expect to see when they arrived in Corvos, and any other little bits of information he could share. Avoiding, she noticed, any mention of his own family. But if he didn’t want to talk about it, she was hardly going to try and force it out of him, so W’ynter refrained from bringing it up even as she wondered about the people who had brought her beloved husband into the world. Who had, both in their presence and their absence, shaped him into the amazing and wonderful man that she loved more than she could even express at times. Did he take after his mother more? Or his father? Or perhaps some amalgam of them both? Would they greet him with dismissal? She doubted that; the tone of his mother’s letter had been nothing but warm. Almost pleading in its words, and she hoped that perhaps there could be some manner of reconciliation for her beloved. Not an admittance of wrongdoing - he himself had said on more than one occasion that they had made the right decision in sending him away to Sharlayan - but maybe an acknowledgement of the injustice that had been done to a child trying so hard to understand and accept a grown-up choice that he was little more than a victim of.
As their voyage got underway, she was silently thankful to all of the Twelve that their son seemed not at all prone to seasickness - even a voyage of 3 bells was far too long to make with a cranky and nauseated toddler - and instead was delighted when the kitten drifted off to sleep in her arms after only about half a bell’s span of the gentle rocking of the ship. Black-furred tail curled around her elbow and one small fist jammed into his mouth as she cradled him against her shoulder and stroked his hair. Leaning into G’raha’s side as he slipped an arm around them both, she smiled as he nuzzled a gentle kiss to the top of his son’s head and mouthed an ‘I love you’ at him before turning her attention back towards the horizon. They could see the bulk of the island through the late afternoon clouds, and W’ynter was quite content to watch it slowly grow larger as the ship sliced through the choppy waves.
“You know I’m proud of you, right?”
Red ears flicked and he cocked his head slightly, crimson eyes meeting hers in a silent query for clarification that she gladly granted. “Doing this; going back home. I know it isn’t easy for you, and I’m proud of you for making the decision to go. For being brave enough to face your past… to face the things that frighten you.”
Her husband glanced away towards the horizon with a noncommittal shrug, but not before she caught the way colour darkened his cheeks before he spoke up softly. “It’s easy to be brave when I have you beside me. Because I only have to look at you… and think of all the courageous things that you’ve done… and something like this seems like such an insignificant fear. If you can be brave saving the star... then how can I be a coward about going home?”
As true as his words were after a fashion, W’ynter frowned and slowly - careful not to wake their sleeping son - reached to gently take his chin and turn his face back to meet hers. Tilting her head to the side and giving him The Look that he obviously recognized as he tried to glance away. “Raha… don’t do that. Don’t downplay your own achievements like that. You held an entire world together without me, and - since you seem to be forgetting - I didn’t save the star on my own. I would have failed were it not for you and our friends. I know how much you love me, and I know that I’m your hero and your inspiration… but you need to stop putting me on such a pedestal, love. You are just as much a hero as I am. As Thancred, and Y’shtola, and the twins, and Estinien, and everyone else is. And all that aside, you know what? Heroes get scared, Raha. But even when they’re scared, they do what needs to be done. That’s what makes them heroes. Now…” She leaned in to press a kiss to his lips with a smile. “Stop talking, accept that you’re doing something brave, and remember that you are a brilliant scholar who is most certainly smart enough to know when to stop arguing with his wife.”
Her demand was met with a small chuckle and a faint nod as the arm he had slung around her tightened with a squeeze and he leaned his head against hers. “I will never know what I did to deserve you… but I’m so glad I did it.” That had the potential to be another Talk, but later… there were some things she had little doubt would take years to unpack and untangle and so instead W’ynter just smiled and leaned into his warmth as they watched the dark bulk of Corvus grow ever larger on the horizon.
The sun was kissing the horizon when the ship began to slow, sidling up to the dock as the fading light cast beams of radiant colour across the clouds and the surface of the sea. W’ynter had been hard pressed not to fall asleep herself, the gentle rocking of the ship and the comforting solidity of G’raha beside her lulling away any lingering reservations or nerves, and she raised her head from his shoulder to cast her gaze across the port they had docked at. It seemed a little smaller than Radz-at-Han, but the two were quite similar in design and it was easy to see the cultural elements that had migrated back and forth across the Corvosi Narrows in the brilliantly coloured and patterned awnings draping many a window and market stall. The famous Corvosi flying carpets could be seen here and there, fluttering on the breeze and it reminded her a little of watching flocks of baby dragons flit through Ishgard even as some childishly delighted part of her wondered if they would get the chance to ride on one.
But what drew her attention the most was the way her husband suddenly went still beside her. Every fibre of him freezing as though time had somehow stopped, and he even seemed to hold his breath. A glance beside her showed his vermillion eyes riveted on something on the dock and she followed his gaze to where a trio of figures stood, watching as the shiphands scurried around to anchor and moor the vessel before the heavy plank was lowered for the passengers to disembark. It looked to be a small family, comprised of a man and a woman along with a young child who looked to be 8 or 9 winters in age. A little boy, if the clothing was anything to go by, and even if she hadn’t been able to guess by the way that G’raha was reacting… the vibrant shade of the child’s hair - and that of his mother’s - would have been enough to wipe any doubts from her mind. They could only be family, and she would have gladly wagered a sizeable sum that the petite woman with the long red hair pulled back in a trailing braid was the mother-in-law that she had never met. A prospect that suddenly had the bottom falling out of her stomach with feelings and worries that her logical brain knew were ridiculous. What if the woman didn’t approve of her? Though he no longer lived as part of their tribe, Raha was technically a tia and not a nuun… yet they had a child. Would his family resent her for somehow tempting him away from the proper societal norms?
Her own thoughts continued to swirl as they made their way down the plank, gripping G’raha’s hand tightly and praying silently to the Twelve that he would interpret it as a show of support - which it still was - and not a desperate way to keep herself grounded so that her own internal panic didn’t make his worse. Only for them to screech to a halt when the boy broke away from his mother as they stepped onto the dock and raced towards them to fling his thin arms around G’raha’s waist with a cry of ‘Big Brother!!’. Her husband froze as well, his eyes as big as saucers as the child clung to him, babbling on and on in the way of young boys, all about how G’raha was his hero and he knew all about him and the amazing things he did, and how his mother told stories about him at night and how he couldn’t believe that the amazing hero who helped save the world was his real life big brother.
W’ynter could see the faint tremble in his shoulders, and she pushed her own worries aside to reach out and give his other one a gentle and encouraging squeeze as G’raha cleared his throat and awkwardly reached down to ruffle the boy’s sun-bleached red hair with a faint smile. “Is… is that so? Well, then you have me at a disadvantage, because I don’t even know your name and you know all sorts of stories about me?”
“Stories about you are G’azih’s favourite ones.”
The soft clarification came from his mother, and the warrior of light did her best not to feel somehow tiny beside this woman who was a couple of inches shorter than she was as G’raha swallowed hard with a nod. Obviously tongue-tied as he continued to stare at her, and W’ynter felt her respect for this woman raise another notch as the redhead seemed to understand with a nod and a sad smile before reaching out with one hand to gently comb her elder son’s bangs from his eyes. “You have made us so proud, G’raha… so very proud. It was so difficult to send you away… to know that it was to keep you safe was the only thing that I could cling to when it got so difficult. When I wanted to write to you… to visit you… Knowing that you were safe… that you were thriving… it was a bandage on a wound that never truly healed, and I know that even now… even understanding as I’m sure you do how necessary it was… I know there is a part of you that will always resent us for it. Just as there is a part of us that will never forgive ourselves.”
G’raha swallowed even harder, a lump in his throat as he tried to speak only for her hand to slip around the back of his head and pull him down into a hug. The kind of hug that mothers gave best, pressing his face against her shoulder as she whispered once again that she was proud of him and W’ynter gently reached to take G’azih’s shoulder and steer the boy towards her as she watched her husband wrap his arms around his mother and sob on her shoulder. Blinking back her own tears as she watched their reunion, she almost jumped as a warm voice spoke softly from the other side of her, turning to find a pair of mismatched eyes framed by messy brown hair studying her above a friendly smile.
“I know who you are, but we’ve yet to be properly introduced. G’sivah Nuun. And you are W’ynter.”
He smiled, and she could see G’raha in his face as the warm gesture served to melt away most of her own insecurities. Like his son, he shared the Allagan eye, and the other one was a hazel green like those of his younger son, and she returned the smile with a nod. “Yes, I am. And this is… well, I guess this is your grandson. G’rhen Tia.” She gave a gentle ruffle to black and red locks as the dozing child raised his head to study the new face with a sleepy consideration and she wondered how he would react to this new family member. G’rhen wasn’t usually afraid of strangers, though he could be shy in new situations, but it seemed she had little to worry about as the boy reached out a small hand towards his grandfather’s face.
“You have an eye like me an’ Papa…”
“That’s right, I do.” Her father-in-law seemed delighted as he appropriated her son with a quick nod asking permission, and she smiled as she watched him win the boy over in a matter of moments before her attention was drawn by her husband giving a gentle tug on her hand. Turning back around, she allowed herself to be pulled into his space and presented to the smiling figure of his mother as though she were some sort of hallowed treasure he was simply blessed to be in the presence of. And the remainder of her internal concerns were washed away as W’ynter found herself enfolded in a tight hug, hearing the whispered words at her ear.
“Thank you… for making my son so happy.”